


One Bad Apple

by Tsume_Yuki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Brother-Sister Relationships, Female Harry Potter, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: In which a young and bored James 'Jim' Moriaty meets a girl with shocking red hair and a tendency to ignore the laws of physics.Suddenly, the world doesn't seem so boring anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

 

_spoils the bunch_

 

 

Humans shouldn't have that colouring, James Moriaty thinks, head cocking to a side and eyebrows slowly drawing together.

Red curls, not ginger but actual red, like fine scarlet cloth or rivers of blood. Tanned skin, unbelievably uncommon for a redhead.

And those eyes... human eyes should not be that bright.

His tongue slips out from between his lips as James further considers the slip of a girl on the other side of the road.

Thin shoulders hunched down in a ratty jacket; secondhand (three sizes too big), the previous owner (male) held little care for it (style not intended to be distressed) despite the obvious price tag (fine materials and a good cut). The jeans and trainers fall into the same category.

Despite disliking what attires her body (fails to stand tall and proud, nor makes any unnecessary adjustments to draw attention to the clothes), the girl takes good care of her things; shoelaces tied tight and precisely, all kept carefully clean with the hem of one trouser leg painstakingly re-sewn.

The girl's posture speaks volumes; huddled in on herself, head down and eyes downcast. Defeatist, resigned, but not completely hopeless.

James watches as a woman (clearly the 'caregiver' based on the familiarity of their interactions rather than showcasing any actual kindness towards the girl) forces far too many shopping bags into the vividly coloured girl's grasp, more than her thin limbs should be capable of managing.

Reaching into his pocket, James removes the lolly within, stripping it of the cheap plastic that creates its wrapper before settling the treat upon his tongue. The stick rolls between his teeth as he considers what he's seeing, watching the woman stride along.

She takes no care to ensure the girl is keeping pace, apparently content to allow her to struggle.

The girl trips (unsurprisingly, the shoes are far too big in both length and width) and one of the bags piled high in her arms rolls into the street.

There's a car coming, the girl hears it because her head snaps up to stare with big green eyes full of horror. No doubt fearful of whatever punishment (be it verbally abusive or physically, maybe even both given how much skin is covered by those hand-me-downs) will be besotted upon her for this disaster.

James watches impartially as the car rolls closer.

His eyes are on the girl so he almost misses it when the bag (it's stationary, has no velocity or force to hint it will move because it's stationary) propels itself into the girl's waiting arms.

James stares.

Vibrant curls whip back and forth to ensure no one has witnessed the unnatural phenomenon (objects at rest do not move on their own so why did it move? There was no cause, no force behind it yet it moved) and in that moment those eyes finally meet his.

 

Interesting.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

The system is laughably easy to exploit.

A few clever words here, a few photos there, it's no challenge at all.

James knows himself and knows himself well. If he wants something, then he'll get it.

This is the first time that what he desires is a person though. Well, perhaps not so much the person as the mystery around the person.

Hariel Lillian Potter, born 31st July 1980, nearly four years his junior and orphaned from infancy to boot. Outcast at school, reportedly bright enough but after that first term report her grades took a nosedive they never pulled out of. Evidently because of the rampant emotional abuse at her 'home' as her 'guardians' -a maternal aunt and her husband- became determined to see their precious child excel over the unwanted niece.

The population is stupid, so exceptionally slow that they never picked up on the signs.

Normally James wouldn't care in the slightest, still doesn't barring the fact it means the little redhead was in the perfect set of circumstances for James to really see her.

His latest attempt to stem the boredom. It seems promising.

It's a trivial thing, sweet-talking the latest set of foster parents who's care he finds himself in, a little hint and they're already offering

to take Hariel under their wing. He's got another few months left with them before James decides it's time to move on, so he allows it. Forging the documents for two people instead of one will not present anymore difficult.

That's if he decides to bring Hariel with him as he jumps to the next family.

It's the easiest way to live his life; find a brand of criminals that're close to being discovered, make use of his unmatched intelligence, and then suddenly he has a multitude of people willing to masquerade as his foster parents. Not staying with just one, moving around and starting anew, that keeps things interesting.

And now here he finds himself, sat outside a courtroom as the Dursley family are slapped with a jail sentence and Hariel Lillian Potter is passed into the care of his current guardians. 

 

 

She comes out of the room dazed (wide eyes, pallor skin and bitten lips parted), clothed in a simple dress (slight creases around the hem that indicate she's been nervously adjusting the material far more than necessary), clearly unused to the garment she now wears (eyes flicked down to a stare every so often, fingers brushing over the fabric a multitude of times) and that's when she spots him.

Recognition flashes across her face and the little mystery girl looks so terribly scared. Scared and hopeful.

"A-are you James?" She asks and her voice is blessedly quiet. Nothing like the other children James had been lumped with during his compulsory schooling, back before they'd gotten a glimpse, a teasing hit of the true intelligence he wields. He'd moved up a year, then another, and another, until all the exams were passed and he was once again bored.

"I am James," he confirms, allowing a small smile (it's not friendly, it's dangerous but she doesn't know the difference now) to stretch across his lips.

Hariel blinks, slow and cautious (so painfully nervous, all flickering eyes and shifting from foot to foot, sweat beading on her brow) and refusing to meet his eyes.

"Thank you," she whispers and despite how low that tone is... it's ripe with true emotion. Nothing like the greedy criminals, the dregs of society that're just so happy he's fixed their problems. So painfully selfish and self-centred that they believe James has actually seen something in them that makes them special enough for him to help.

No, they were never anything more than a transient distraction, all but forgotten about now.

To have such pure, innocent emotion projected at him; it's different. It's not boring, and that's what matters.

Instead of speaking, James holds out his hand towards the younger girl, palm face up and fingers spread.

There's a moment of stillness, until Hariel wraps her fingers around his palm with no hesitation.

 

How terribly exciting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI; I have no idea where this is going.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

_"James?"_

_Coltish limbs slowly recoiling from where they'd been drawn as close to her torso as possible, Hariel Potter stares with those huge green eyes, eyes that shouldn't be capable of being so green (James knows, he's run DNA tests, he's run the tests thrice and they always come back inconclusive) and yet here they are. She's small, nearly four whole years his junior and she's clingy._

_Of course, her irritating desire to remain by his side made it easier to retrieve DNA samples with a simple mouth swab (she didn't even question it after the first time) and ensured she wouldn't be running off (she isn't allowed to leave until he has his answers)._

_There are times though when Hariel looks to him as if he hung the moon and the stars, as if it is he that calls for the sun to crest for the dawn or for it to descend into dusk. It is not with the greed and envy of the criminals and the 'foster parents', but a look (untainted as fresh snow, ripe as fresh fruit, pure as childish innocence) that makes her constant presence bearable._

_"Hariel," he acknowledges her name and thank the heavens it is not a drab and dull name. Hariel; a name derived from Harriet or Henrietta, given an elegant twist that provokes the image of a Greek muse, a name near nymphean in nature. With her exquisite colouring and possible inclination to the unnatural, it suits her._

_The way the laws of physics had casually broken around her; it is not something he has discussed with her, not yet. Trust must be built first, a solid foundation. If James wants answers, he needs to make sure Hariel is aware he is stable, approachable. That she can discuss these things with him and him alone._

_"Nightmare?" James asks, though he needs no confirmation (pulse racing, pupils dilated, tense muscles and heavy breathing). She's learnt it's pointless to lie to him already (clever girl. Not the kind of intellect that would initially catch his attention, but she can be taught) so Hariel just nods, the movement jerky._

_Criminals, all those people that come to him for a better life, a betterment of their own situation with no regards to the laws they disregard as a results... not one of them had ever declared they'd rather be with him. It'd always been about what he could do for them, never a consideration for his company. Never someone content to just exist beside him._

_There appears nowhere else little Hariel Potter would rather want for though, than sitting here at his side._

_She scoots closer to him, hesitating a foot away until James lifts one arm, inviting her to rest against his side._

_There's only the slightest bit of hesitation, a clear sign she's steadily coming to trust in him. He needs that trust, needs to build on it until she confesses to what happened upon that street. It hadn't been the first time (eyes wide with anticipation, not surprise, because she's fearful of these powers but aware) so she's aware of what's happening on some level._

_The question is, can she control it?_

_James might be eager to know, but he's well aware a slow build will lead to a more open approach to his questions and, thus, a more comprehensive answer._

_"Why do you move from foster parents?"_

_When Hariel had come into this house, the 'parents' had made it explicitly clear that they would only be willing to house her as long as James stays. That they considered the two a package deal and saw no reason to keep the unneeded one without him. Not only does James respect that kind of practical honesty, but it's had the helpful effect of pushing Hariel closer to him, implying there is no other out here that she can trust. That only he wants her, that the acceptance she craves as a neglected child can only be fulfilled by his existence alone._

_"It's about freedom," James muses, mind whirling. So many ways to take this conversation, so many different twists and turns but which one to pick, which one? "To not have to rely upon another; people cannot let you down if you do not give them the power to do so, Hariel."_

_Not that people ever let him down; it's too dangerous for them to attempt to do so, and he's always calculating. He knows exactly how much he can get from a person, he's never had that expectation exceeded as of yet._

_Hariel is calming by his side (pulse slowing, eyes growing heavy, shoulders relaxing) though she is desperately trying to remain awake (too interested in what he has to say, determined to give him all her attention) despite the protests of her six year old body. Part of him wants to push her, to push her towards the emotional distress that'd been present when the laws of physics had bent to her advantage. But no, he's patient, he can wait. He never settles for a half-complete mystery._

_"But I'm relying on you," she whispers._

_Clever child, she actually gets it, understands her position. She's protected as of now, far away from her abusers but it is all through his power, his actions that have led her to this safe haven._

_"You are," James agrees, waiting and watching, just to see what conclusions she'll come to. Hariel worries her lip back and forth, teeth scraping over the flesh there._

_"I can cook, and I can clean."_

_James laughs. It's not light, it's not friendly, but it's not as mocking and cruel as he could make it. Not yet anyway._

_"I can find people for that, little Hariel. What you need to do, is become something indispensable. Something unique, that I can find nowhere else and cannot do without."_

_Her expression sets, thin lips pursed and hands balling into fists. James isn't a charity case, he's not here to save a little orphaned girl. Only to see if his latest little project can become something interesting, something that has the potential to be captivating._

_"I will," she whispers, eyes clenched shut and such conviction in her words that James almost believes her._

 

_Almost._

 

 

 

 

Harry Potter wakes to an empty room and a roaring alarm clock.

There's sleep sticking her eyelashes together, clumping in the corners until she rubs it free. The sheets are half tangled around her shins, thin and soft against her skin. For a moment she just lies there, trying to pretend everything is okay.

The noises of London are familiar in the background, but they've never felt quite so loud before. The bustle of people out there, the shrill screeches of tires upon the streets, the occasional flare of a siren. She'd never really paid it any attention before and now it bombards.

One hand finds its way to her hair as she sits up, ruffling the wild red curls and pushing them back and away from her face.

Sat in this room, this rented room paid for with the money from her dead parents -the first time she's ever really had to actually touch the stuff- Harry only sees emptiness. The sparse furniture, the clothing, what little luggage she has, none of it really registers.

She's directionless, a comet without an orbit, nothing holding her in place and just leaving her to drift directionless through nothingness. There's no goal, be it self-appointed or prescribed to her.

For the first time in twenty three years, she has no idea what to do.

It's a concept she's unfamiliar with, and one she's quickly coming to find unsatisfactory too. This uncertainty, the lack of a safety net, knowing she's out here on her own... It's discomforting. She doesn't like it.

As much as she wishes to lie here in bed though, to pretend everything is okay, that this is just a moment frozen in time and everything is going to quickly pick back up to its usual pace, that's not how life works. Not anymore.

There's nothing to pull her along now, nothing to force her into movement. If she doesn't create the need to move herself, she'll stagnate.

Something he'll no doubt hate even more.

 

And so with that thought in mind, Harry gets up and ready for the day.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> James isn't quite calling himself Jim yet.   
> As for the ages I'll be using;
> 
> Moriarty- 5th September 1976   
> Harry- 31st July 1980  
> Sherlock- 6th January 1981


End file.
